


Toeing the Line

by Lalaen



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM Magic, BDSM Scene, Baby Dom Dorian, Dom The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Dom/sub, Fire play, Kink Exploration, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Polyamory, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Lavellan (Dragon Age), Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Drop, lavellan can’t control his magic during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26321173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaen/pseuds/Lalaen
Summary: Gethrael and Iron Bull know that Dorian has the capacity for sadism, and they’re going to do their best to get him to express it.
Relationships: The Iron Bull/Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Toeing the Line

It was impressive how well Iron Bull could handle the inquisitor, and that was one thing Dorian did envy. Overall, he was far more happy with their arrangement than he ever would’ve guessed himself to be; but Bull had a way of just knowing what to do that he could not keep up with. The Qunari had a look in his eye as he glanced Gethrael over, a look that told Dorian he saw something other than just ‘unhappy’ and he already knew what to do about it. 

“Kneel.”

Dorian could agree the dark, low tone that Bull had at times like this was hard to resist, but the inquisitor dropped to his knees almost comically fast. He had a little smile of anticipation on his lips, and Dorian could see the tremble of his gloved hands in his lap. 

“You wanna undress him?” Bull addressed Dorian, tipping his head towards the elf on the floor. His tone was the same, but he made it a question - it was a courtesy, really, and they both knew it - a direct response to the mage’s acerbic ‘don’t tell me what to do’s. Bull was still very much telling him what to do, but at least this way Dorian could pretend to himself that he didn’t like it. 

“I’d be delighted,” Dorian said, “though I’m sure I won’t be half so talented as he is.” He took a knee beside Gethrael, as Bull put a heavy hand on the elf’s head. 

“Behave.” With that the Qunari turned and walked slowly over to the door of the loft.

Dorian was still of two minds about this entire... whatever this was, the whole sexual servitude ordeal. The thing was, from the moment he’d first kissed the silly elf he’d been obsessed with Gethrael’s responsiveness. He was so warm, so eager, so thrilled to touch and be touched. At first the idea of controlling that bordered on disgusting, but, well. It was impossible to deny how much the inquisitor _loved_ it. Teasing him was so easy, too; and that was one thing Dorian could do very well. He took Gethrael’s hands in his own, pulling each finger of the thin leather gloves until they were loose enough to remove. Likewise he undid the belt and sash, setting them aside, enjoying the anticipatory tremble that made the elf practically vibrate. 

Planting both hands on Gethrael’s velvet-clad thighs, Dorian leaned in close and gave them a squeeze. Predictably, Geth tried to close the gap between them and steal a kiss, but the mage drew back. “Ah-ah,” he teased, and came in closer still, a breath away from touching. The inquisitor’s gasp, the way his eyes fluttered half closed...

Dorian has to admit the power of it all was exquisitely arousing. 

He took care to run his fingers over every sensitive spot he knew as he removed the jacket and then the thin silk shirt underneath. By the time he was half naked, Gethrael was actually panting a little and his nipples were erect. Dorian took that as a point of pride. “Why, dearest,” he said, falling just short of mocking. “You’re so desperate for my touch I could have you climax here and now.”

Gethrael nodded immediately, and his lips were so wet and perfect, parted in invitation, that Dorian almost gave in. 

“You like to draw it out,” Bull sounded amused. “Cruel, for someone who claims not to like this.” His pointed look said he didn’t believe that at all. 

“I couldn’t hurt him,” Dorian said, keeping the tone of his husky banter despite being very serious. He ghosted his touch over prominent hipbones and toyed with the fastenings of Geth’s breeches. 

“There’s a difference between ‘hurt’ and ‘harm’.” Bull tapped the elf on the head again, “up,” he said sternly, “get your boots off.” That was something of a relief, seeing as it would’ve been extremely difficult with him kneeling like that. “Harm gives anyone sane a limp dick,” he continued. “That’s what he’s got a watchword for.” He put a finger under Gethrael’s chin. “Watchword, kadan?”

“Katoh,” Geth said immediately, careful to meet Bull’s eye when he said it. 

“He knows he can stop,” Bull said, his serious gaze fixed on Dorian now, and the mage could feel his measure being taken. He hated it when Bull did that. “Hard to give him too much of anything, though. Doubt you could if you tried.” 

It was such an obvious attempt to make him angry that it’d be laughable if it wasn’t working. Dorian hated that too, couldn’t believe that he was letting it annoy him. He was smarter than that. Gethrael had put his boots aside and was taking the initiative to start unlacing his breeches as well. “No one told you to do that, my dear.” Dorian snapped without thinking, and when Iron Bull chuckled he had to actively bite back a retort. 

“Then why don’t you tell me what to do?” Geth said, in his stupid flirtatious voice. He was stopping himself from smiling, which was always so obvious because of how much he crinkled his eyes, and he didn’t seem to be able to control that. 

Shit. 

“Told you to behave,” Bull teased, after waiting just long enough that Dorian could’ve said something if he’d wanted to. He smacked the elf on the ass and made him stagger. “Stay still and let him take your clothes off,” Bull looked at Dorian again, scrutinizing him. “Slap him if he talks to you like that.”

“I won’t be doing that,” the mage replied immediately. He’d seen the way Geth giggled and grinned when Bull hit him, but... it seemed so absurd and wrong. Especially because something in the back of his mind told him he’d definitely enjoy doing it. 

“I like it,” Gethrael was just as quick, and as usual, blunt as a club to the face. 

Before Dorian could keep arguing, Bull grabbed a fistful of the elf’s hair and dragged him down to his knees. “Tell him what you want,” Bull said, carefully enunciating each word. “Beg, _bas_.”

Geth’s eyes watered as his hair was pulled, and the hard ridge of his cock was clearly visible even through his breeches. 

“Dorian,” he choked, blinking up at the mage with his dark eyes. “Please hit me.” As with everything he said it without a hint of shame, and Dorian felt a twist deep in his stomach. 

“I said beg,” Bull growled. It wasn’t even directed at him and he felt his cock twitch. Some of Geth’s hair tumbled into his face, giving him a dishevelled look that practically screamed that he needed to be fucked. 

The elf let his head drop, and Dorian crouched down beside him. The mage wasn’t sure yet what he intended to do, but he was formulating something very pithy about how he could make Geth sting with his words. Then Gethrael looked up again and stole his breath with an unguarded look of wanton desire. 

“I need this, Dorian... please,” he said quietly. “You’ve seen, you know. Please, I’m fine - you won’t... I want to be hurt. I don’t want to think any more.”

“I have other ways to distract you,” Dorian muttered back. His heart was pounding in his throat and he wasn’t sure why. 

The inquisitor shook his head. “Please, do this for me. It isn’t the same. Hit me, Dorian,” he sounded more insistent, not at all unlike when he started begging for climax. Dorian found himself thinking of that first night when he’d seen Geth in such dire straits. The elf had been happy while they made love, but he still hadn’t slept through the night. “Please, please...”

Before he could think more about it, Dorian leaned back and slapped Gethrael across the face. The hot gasp that left his lips was undeniably sexual. Dorian had expected himself to feel at least a moment of concern or even guilt, but instead there was only the rush of his blood, and a hook of arousal tugging hard at his stomach. There was a little mark on Geth’s cheek from one of his rings, and that kindled such a wild desire in Dorian that next thing he knew he had grabbed the inquisitor by the back of the head and pulled him into a forceful kiss. 

“Mmh!” He could feel Gethrael’s smug grin against his lips. 

“Stubborn Vint,” Iron Bull said fondly. “Gonna tell me you hated that?”

Dorian was about to break the kiss and snap at him, but he felt Geth’s palm against his cock and instead he pulled the elf away and hit him again. This time it made a different sound, a little heavier, and when Gethrael grinned at him there was blood streaked between his teeth. Dorian had half a mind to take him right there, though with how aroused he suddenly was he might not last long enough. “My dear,” he said mildly, catching his breath. “I believe you’ve left me quite speechless.”

Iron Bull cupped the inquisitor’s jaw with a hand, and Geth went limp against the touch. He was completely pliant as Bull pulled back his cheek with a thumb - checking his teeth? Surely Dorian did not hit that hard. Bull’s eye turned disapprovingly on him even as the elf gave a giddy chuckle. 

“Watch yourself when you’re hitting his face. Much safer parts to hit.”

“Are you going to take issue with everything I do?” Dorian said haughtily. 

“You said you didn’t want to hurt him,” Bull said dryly, “I’m making sure you don’t.” He pushed on Gethrael’s shoulders, and the elf immediately went forwards onto all fours. “Can spank him if you want. He’s used to me, so I don’t think you can go too hard. Ha.” The Qunari was trying to get a rise again, there was that spark in his eye that confirmed it. 

This time it didn’t really work, because Dorian was already thinking about how it would feel to spank Geth. It didn’t give him much of a thrill, but coupled with how aroused he was his mind immediately jumped to how he’d accidentally scalded the elf before during sex. “I have a more interesting idea.”

“Of course you do,” Bull said with a resigned sigh. 

Dorian came closer, taking the same torturous care to remove the inquisitor’s breeches. Gethrael didn’t move from his hands and knees, but his skin erupted in gooseflesh, and Dorian could feel him getting tense with anticipation. 

He was not wearing anything underneath them. 

“My darling,” Dorian teased, almost actually laughing. “You’ve been attending all of your duties today with nothing under your trousers?”

“What? It’s not as though I was naked,” the elf snapped back, though Dorian could hear his smile. 

“Would be if you could,” Bull gave his bare ass a gentle pat. 

“I’m sorry, the thought of you bent over the war table beside Cullen - maker’s breath, there’s something for a rainy day.”

“The Dalish don’t wear underclothes, you know.”

That... was not at all surprising, actually. Dorian could’ve gone on ribbing him easily, but Iron Bull was giving him a look that said he really knew how to kill a mood. He narrowed his eyes in return. 

It was incredibly easy; too easy, to call up flame to wreath his hand when he was sexually aroused. As soon as he saw the glow of the magic, Bull’s expression changed to something like ‘fuck this’. Dorian laid two fingers on the inquisitor’s bicep and sent a stripe of flame racing around to meet itself. It disappeared as quickly as it had flared, leaving a rather pretty ribbon of red flesh in its wake. 

The sharp gasp he earned from Gethrael’s lips was pretty too, but Dorian’s erection throbbed almost painfully when he saw that mark. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. Once he’d left a tiny love bite under the elf’s jaw, and when he’d seen in the next day; how it was in no way covered by Geth’s collar or hair, he’d had to awkwardly hide his half-hard cock like he was fifteen again. Now, seeing the shiny burn on his inquisitor’s skin, intentionally placed like a piece of jewelry... this was something he’d underestimated. Especially when he could see Gethrael’s face still tight from the lingering pain. 

“Looks nice,” Iron Bull muttered appreciatively, rubbing his thumb across the burn. The elf made a whimpering sound that Dorian had only heard him make when nearing the end of a long night of sex, overstimulated but still begging for more. It was easy to see how causing him pain could become an addiction. 

Dorian ran a hand over his body, feeling how he leaned into the touch. The mage rubbed the tense muscles at the base of his neck for a moment before trailing the hand down the dip of his spine. It was incredibly, stupidly tempting to scorch a band around his throat like a collar, something everyone would be able to see. Of course it’d be beyond foolish, but Dorian was still tempted. 

“You want to hear me beg for more?” Gethrael’s voice was still flirtatious, but there was a tremble somewhere underneath it. 

It was damn near embarrassing how hard Dorian was, especially since Iron Bull never seemed to miss a single detail and certainly knew. Apparently he was content to watch at the moment, giving Dorian the impression that the Qunari wanted to see what he would do. Wasn’t that just grand. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Dorian slipped his hand down between the elf’s cheeks, momentarily teasing that he might get a finger inside him. Instead he cupped his palm against the tenderest skin at the top of Geth’s inner thigh. Before he could get a smart answer, he ignited another stripe that hugged the curve of the elf’s ass. 

Gethrael’s body jolted violently, and he let out a choked cry. When Dorian touched him again he jerked reflexively away with a yelp, and there was the briefest moment where the mage was concerned about that. Even the idea of Geth recoiling from him was enough to make his stomach flip before. This was different. Geth’s chest was heaving as he panted through the intense lingering sting of the burn, his leg twitching as he fought to stay still. Dorian trailed his fingers along the elf’s back again, feeling how he’d broken into a cold sweat. It was intoxicating, having this much power over him; one of the most influential men in all of Thedas shaking under Dorian’s fingertips. 

Iron Bull shifted, moving to Gethrael’s side and pinning both of his ankles with one huge hand. The other rested around the base of his neck, and although the touch looked gentle, it was obvious the intent was to hold him in place. Dorian hesitated a moment, not sure if he was supposed to stop, and Bull jerked his head towards the elf. Alright then; he did not need to be asked twice. 

Dorian’s touch was feather light when he placed his fingertips on Gethrael’s other thigh; unable to resist the allure of a matching set. It was easy for him to imagine how the sensation of those two burns persisted and built on itself, two harmonizing pains in two different places. It must be incredibly intense - and Dorian was not done. 

Gethrael let out a full-throated cry as soon as the flames licked his skin, and it turned into whimpers as his arms shook so badly they gave out. Bull held his shoulders against the floor, his cheek against the stone. It was abundantly clear why the Qunari had decided to hold him. His body was jerking - or trying to - like he was a puppet on a string, regardless of how much he may have wanted to stay still. After a few moments he calmed into heavy panting, his thighs still twitching and his face tight with pain. Despite that, his expression was almost... petulant? It was reminiscent of the one he’d wear when he was held back from his orgasm. 

He was so lovely, and not just because he was presenting his ass like that. Dorian had seen him flushed and giggling, in what Bull had called ‘his submissive place’ with bruises on his ass and thighs. This was different. He was shaking, vulnerable, and still _wanting_. Dorian couldn’t remember being so aroused; so desperately hard that he felt in danger of losing control. 

When Dorian placed a hand on Geth’s side, the elf squealed and jumped. The mage found himself looking at Bull, and maybe he’d be embarrassed about that later. Had he already gone too far? Surely the Qunari would tell him, seeing as he certainly had a lot to say about everything else Dorian had done. 

“He’s ok,” Iron Bull said in a low voice. 

“I didn’t ask you,” Dorian responded automatically, then felt a little stupid. 

“Sure,” his smirk was audible. 

Dorian laid a hand on Gethrael again, and though he still jolted sharply, he then leaned into the touch. “You know because he hasn’t said that word?”

“Doesn’t look like he wants more to you?” Bull said, and though his tone was teasing; it was true. That needy look on the inquisitor’s face was impossible to ignore, and the way his hands were tense claws against the stone. Other things, smaller things, were difficult to quantify - something about the way he was panting, the curve of his spine, the twist of his mouth - but seemed undeniable. “Yeah, he’ll use the word if he needs. But you can tell when to slow down, if you look.”

One more should do it, Dorian thought. After all, the pain of a burn was cumulative; it didn’t fade quickly like the sting of a slap or even a scratch. It should be worthy of being the last, though. The mage’s hand trailed hungrily along Gethrael’s side, stopping at the dip of his waist. Perfect. He sent out a thin ring of fire from a single fingertip, and immediately felt the elf’s body seize. 

“Ah!” Geth slammed both hands against the floor, his body shuddering violently. As soon as the cry left his lips, he started panting as though he’d nearly drowned; taking great gulps of air. He squeezed his eyes shut and stifled another cry through clenched teeth. Bull used his thumb to rub a soothing circle at the top of the inquisitor’s spine, but Gethrael cried out again and his body spasmed. 

“Just overstimulated,” Iron Bull said quietly, which made Dorian suddenly very conscious of whether he looked worried. “See how out of it he is? That’s what you’re looking for.” He pulled Geth up to kneel almost effortlessly, the dazed look in his eyes was immediately obvious. His lips were slightly parted, and he winced when he had to sit back on his burned thighs. He didn’t look particularly stable, either; as though if Bull wasn’t supporting him he might not be sitting straight. “You’ll notice cause he shuts up,” the Qunari teased. It was also very noticeable that Gethrael was fully erect and leaking. 

“And now that he’s- like this?”

“Tonight? You fuck him. Then I will.”

The Inquisitor was undeniably pretty like this, Dorian thought. Unfocused, flushed, aroused... wearing Dorian’s brands like jewelry. The mage came in for a kiss, unable to resist the idea of it; getting close enough to feel the heat of Geth’s body through his own clothes. This time the elf didn’t eagerly try to connect their lips, taking a moment to respond at all. He sagged against Dorian, pliant and needy; entirely focused on what must be the wettest and clumsiest kiss he’d ever given.

It was also quite possibly the most arousing kiss that Dorian had ever received. 

“You going to last?” Iron Bull said, in a darkly teasing voice that made the mage’s spine prickle in a bad-good way that quite frankly, made Dorian feel like he was going insane. 

“I’m well past the age that I can control myself,” he said archly, ignoring how strong the urge to simply rub himself through his breeches was. Maker’s mercy, he was going to have a lot to unpack later from all this. “Now if I’m taking him, give me the oil,” he snapped. 

There was a pause, then a vial was pressed into his outstretched hand. Iron Bull took Gethrael by the shoulder, muttering to him to back up, but Dorian’s arm went around his waist like a vice before he’d even thought about it properly. Geth drew in a shaky gasp and his whole body trembled. Ah, yes; he did have a burn around his waist, and Dorian was surely touching it with his entire arm. 

“Up, my dear,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. As soon as Geth kneeled up, he moved his hand to the elf’s ass and pulled them flush against each other. He knew Bull’s approach was to touch as little as possible, keep their inquisitor still and anticipating. Dorian did not like that. He wanted to feel every tremble, he wanted Gethrael to lean on him for support; to cling and dig in his nails. He also desperately wanted more of those messy, needy kisses. 

Dorian pressed his slick fingers - two at once - inside Gethrael, and felt the hard cock that was pinned against his ribs twitch. Geth’s arms rested limply over his shoulders, though fingers curled against the back of his neck as he pushed his own deep. He could hear the elf’s heartbeat pounding against his ear as Geth started to squeeze him back. 

The inquisitor was not a quiet lover. It was something Dorian very much enjoyed. There was little better for his ego than listening to a beautiful man whine and mewl under his ministrations. Normally, Gethrael would be squirming and rocking his hips, trying to fuck himself, and Dorian loved that so much that he’d thought he would hate this. He felt very stupid, now. Geth pliant and clinging was no less desperately wanting, and his slender chest heaving against Dorian’s cheek as he panted for breath was a dizzying intimacy. 

“Would you like to stay in my lap, my darling?” Dorian said in a honeyed tone, pressing his lips briefly against the place where he felt the rapid hammering of the elf’s heart. He added a third finger, though he doubted it was necessary. Gethrael had taken him from two with no trouble, without being in his submissive place. 

“He can’t fuck himself,” Bull said, sounding bemused. “Not like this. If you do him face down, you’ll hit these nice burns you put on his ass.”

Dorian felt the inquisitor start to tense and immediately slowed his hand, fingering him too gently and shallowly to give him much stimulation from it. He got a pathetic, frustrated groan he was well used to. Making Gethrael wait to climax was a very satisfying pastime of his. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Dorian said thoughtfully. He craned his neck to kiss the elf’s throat, and pulled his fingers out. Instead he used both hands to help Geth lay back. There was some attitude there still, as he was grabbed in another sloppy kiss that he had no desire whatsoever to escape from. He could feel the hair standing up on his arms from the inquisitor’s static charge, and prepared himself to control a magic outburst. Hopefully he didn’t set something on fire himself. 

“Already forget you can be rough?” Iron Bull said with a smirk that was obviously intended to provoke him. 

“Maker’s breath,” Dorian huffed. He sat back, grabbing Gethrael’s hips and flipping him in one harsh movement, as though to prove a point. A blue bolt of electricity arced from the elf’s freckled shoulders to the small of his back as his hands smacked against the floor. That showed his approval much more than his soft, helpless groan ever could. Dorian caught and crushed it in a shower of harmless sparks. “And you say I won’t last?’ He said, a teasing sharpness at the edges. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Iron Bull sounded amused. “He’ll wanna keep going. You know how he gets.” He made no attempt to hide his appreciative gaze as Dorian undid the fastenings of his breeches and pulled out his cock. 

Gethrael whined something like agreement - though as distant as he seemed now, perhaps it was just coincidence. Still, Dorian hurried to slick himself, desperate to finally claim him. He used only the gingerest touch with the oil, as the ache was so incredible he was sure he could finish himself in a few good strokes. He had to grit his teeth as he pressed against Geth, who readily accepted his intrusion - but maker, he was still so tight. Dorian forced himself to recall several magical formulae in great detail as he seated himself in Gethrael’s trembling body. This was not the moment; with the elf so needy and Bull watching his every move, to start having problems with finishing prematurely. He needed some form of distraction from the positively sinful little noises coming from Gethrael. Iron Bull had at some point brought his wrists up over his head and was holding them together with one hand. When had he done that? 

Not giving the elf more than the briefest moment to adjust, Dorian kept in as deep as he could manage, Geth’s cheeks and slender thighs pressed against him. When grinding against him didn’t trigger the guttural moans he hoped, Dorian snapped his hips, starting a punishing pace. Keeping this up was fortunately a bit of a distraction from how close he was himself. Of course, it was foolish to not expect Gethrael would desire roughness now, was that not the place they’d put him - no, the place he’d craved and they’d allowed him to be in. 

Normally Gethrael was shameless, yes, but the sounds he was making now were so unrestrained they were almost animal. Dorian let his hands slide from where they’d been gripping bruises on the elf’s hips up to the burn encircling his waist. The heady thrill of power came over him, not unlike the feeling of casting his most powerful spells; seeing what he could do and knowing he alone had done it. When he cast a firestorm he could feel the magic rushing through his blood, and this was so similar that he had a fleeting fear that he’d cast by accident. 

Instead, he dragged his fingers along the sore red skin of that burn. Gethrael actually shouted - wordlessly and then some broken phrase of elvish. His hands twitched and clenched into fists in Bull’s grasp. His body tensed unmistakably, and the raw intensity of his cry could almost be pain instead of pleasure. It would be enough to make Dorian climax with him, but the contractions of the elf’s body were so tight as to be a little painful. 

“Don’t stop,” Iron Bull said firmly, levelling Dorian with a hard stare. The mage was so deeply consumed in the moment; sweat running down his back and an unbearable tightness in his stomach, that he wouldn’t realize until later that he was being given an order. “Finish inside him.”

Dorian did keep going, feeling each over-sensitive jolt of the inquisitor’s body. Bull must be actually holding him now, as every stroke was triggering his reflexes. In a hazy spike of inspired cruelty, Dorian pressed his palm against the small of Gethrael’s back, curving his body to ensure every thrust would hit the centre of his pleasure - which now must be incredibly painful. Even the noises he was making sounded like they were being forcibly ripped from him. It was beautiful. 

There was an angry crackle of electricity, bright bolts of lightning jumping off of Gethrael’s body like living things. Dorian was on the verge of his peak, hanging on to his own control by a thread. He needed all of his concentration to keep the inferno boiling just under his skin in check, and could spare nothing to defuse Geth. Bull growled something that sounded very much like, ‘ _Fucking mages_ ’. He’d almost certainly been shocked. 

Dorian’s vision actually went white for a moment when he climaxed, and he only narrowly avoided putting too much of his weight on the Inquisitor, catching himself on his hands. Gethrael whined, shaking violently under him; back pressed up against his chest and sweat sticking them together. Dorian pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his shoulder and stayed there a moment, panting. 

As soon as he became fully aware, Dorian realized flames were licking his fingers and the flagstone floor. So much for maintaining control, then. He huffed and curled his hand into a fist, crushing the fire into a wisp of smoke. If Iron Bull -

“You two will be the death of me,” the Qunari said, his voice husky and darkly teasing all at once. 

“I’m sure you’ll deserve it,” Dorian said acerbically, pulling out of Gethrael with a wince. The elf gave a little cry before lapsing back into ragged panting, his slender chest heaving with the effort. “Are you alright, dearest?” He asked, unable to stop himself. The Inquisitor might as well be in the fade for how mentally present he seemed. His heavy breathing was interrupted not only by his whimpers and groans, but the occasional choking cough; it seemed he’d made himself hoarse. 

“He’s okay, but he probably can’t answer you,” Bull said, his voice close enough to tenderness that it might get under Dorian’s skin in other circumstances. He must’ve looked worried; because after studying him for a moment, Bull hauled Gethrael up by his wrists. 

The elf was all but completely limp in the Qunari’s grip, head sagging against his arm and a wide, stupid grin on his face. He was deeply flushed, sweat sticking stray hairs to his forehead. Though he was staring off into nothing, his eyes were shining. 

“Kadan,” Bull said, not harsh but absolutely commanding, “look at Dorian.”

Gethrael did almost immediately, though his gaze was unfocused. Dorian watched him struggle for a moment to make eye contact, then reached out and took his chin with two fingers. The mage saw not only recognition, but genuine happiness; and that made warmth spread in his chest. 

Slowly, Bull lowered Geth’s hands, letting him sag onto Dorian. “Why don’t you hang onto him for me,” he said, and when he let go of those tiny wrists, the Inquisitor clutched weakly at Dorian’s shoulders; his laboured breath hot and damp. 

“Does he need holding?”

“Holding _up_ ,” Bull said with a low chuckle as he moved behind the elf. “He’s gonna spark like crazy, though. Think you can help with that?”

“You’re lucky I’m so talented,” Dorian said haughtily. He felt for the large pin in Gethrael’s hair, indulging his urge to see it long and wild. As it tumbled down, braids already coming unwoven; Geth gave a guttural groan that sounded almost animal. Iron Bull was pressing against him, and no matter how many times Dorian saw this slender little elf take that huge cock, it always looked physically impossible. The prickle of static charge kissed Dorian’s skin, emanating from where Gethrael’s body touched his. 

Despite being utterly spent, Dorian still felt the barest stirrings of arousal at the sounds the inquisitor was making as he took Bull’s cock. As someone who’d partaken a few times himself, it was safe to say that it was an intense experience. He couldn’t imagine it after orgasm. Geth’s nails dug into him, and he ran a hand over the inquisitor’s body; relishing the tremors under his fingertips. 

“How’s it feel that your dick gets him ready for me?” Bull said with a dark chuckle, acting as though Gethrael’s helpless moans were nothing but background noise. The indifference was strangely attractive. 

“Who do you think I am, exactly?” Dorian said; now that his head was clear his cutting wit was absolutely flawless once more. “I’m well aware I have nothing to be insecure about - in fact, were I to have a cock comparable to yours I quite doubt I could walk properly.” He stroked Gethrael’s white-blond hair, soothing the choked yelp the elf gave as Bull pressed in him to the hilt. 

“Ha. That’s true.”

Geth’s ragged breathing sounded almost like sobs, now, and his hands were shaking violently. Dorian sensed electricity jumping with a snap between the hands clinging to his neck, and got ready to control the inquisitor’s magic almost completely. The thought gave him an unexpected thrill all its own. Bull’s hands covered the marks on Gethrael’s hips where Dorian had just been digging his fingers in. 

Each time the Qunari pounded into him, Geth’s body jerked in Dorian’s grasp. His eyes were wet, the mage could feel it against the crook of his neck. There was the angry crackle of electricity, which Dorian focused to pull into his hand. The Inquisitor was too much raw power to fully dissipate; but he could at least draw it and let it strike harmlessly away from them. He traced gentle circles between Gethrael’s shoulder blades with his fingertips, feeling the sharp intensity of the elf’s magic sizzle, wild and alive. The intimacy of this simple thing, holding the primal energy of his partner’s talent, made Dorian feel things he wasn’t even comfortable naming. 

Gethrael started to squirm, keening - and he surged so suddenly that a rogue bolt snapped at Bull before Dorian could contain it. The Qunari growled a curse. 

“Oh shush,” Dorian huffed. The static charge was ramping up to thousands of pinpricks on his skin. “Pretending you don’t like a little pain, then?”

Infuriatingly, Iron Bull just chuckled. Just as Dorian opened his mouth to make another flippant comment, Bull leaned down over the small elf between them, grabbed him by the back of his head, and gave him a hard kiss. It was a pleasant surprise, but it resulted in Gethrael’s lightning zapping both of them. 

“Ah! Damn,” Dorian pushed Bull away and focused for a moment on keeping Geth together. All he got from the Qunari was that irritatingly smug smirk of his. 

“See if you can finish him off again,” he said, a slight strain in his voice that might mean he was close. 

The inquisitor was back to trembling like a leaf. Dorian followed a sudden wicked thought and lit the tiniest candle flame on his fingertip; brushing it against Gethrael’s skin for just the briefest moment. The very next moment his stomach turned at the shrill cry he got, and how the inquisitor’s hands scrabbled at his shoulders. Objectively the reaction was not so different, but he felt in his core that it was wrong. 

Bull gave a choked grunt, balls deep inside Gethrael. Dorian watched him tensing with some appreciation as he slid his hand down Geth’s side and over his stomach to touch his half-hard cock. He thought for a moment he could literally feel Iron Bull pushing against the inside of the inquisitor’s belly, but that seemed ridiculous. He wrapped his hand around Gethrael and stroked him with practiced ease, doing all the little things he liked. He was only half hard, but Dorian had ‘forced’ him through multiple orgasms enough times to expect that at this point in the encounter. 

“Amatus,” Dorian muttered, pressing his lips against the shell of the elf’s long ear. “Will you cum for me?”

“Mmmn,” the inquisitor broke off into a razor-sharp gasp. One last weak pulse of seed spilled over Dorian’s thumb as he mercilessly rubbed the sensitive slit. 

“Did I... he actually climaxed because I asked?” Dorian couldn’t believe it. That didn’t seem possible. 

Bull gave a hearty chuckle as he slowly pulled out, running a hand reverently down Gethrael’s side. “Ha - yeah. Loves being told what to do, this one.” There was the saddest little whimper as he sat back, one last spark arcing and popping along the elf’s spine. “And he’s been real into the idea of you ordering him around.”

“You cannot be serious,” Dorian said sceptically, rubbing circles on Gethrael’s back as he gasped for air. There was a tremor running through him, and almost as soon as Dorian noticed it; it became so pronounced that he could not only feel it against his chest but see it with his eyes. “Bull,” he said insistently. 

“Yeah,” The Qunari took the inquisitor with careful hands, picked him up off of Dorian like he was scooping up a kitten and lowered him back to the bed. “Now we let him come out of it.”

Dorian watched Gethrael’s unfocused eyes flutter closed. Sweat stuck stray hair to his face and shoulders, and he was deeply flushed enough that it was visible even with his dark skin and freckles. “And what, exactly, does that entail?”

“I’ll clean him up. Just let him know you’re there if he needs it. Usually wants some space.”

Iron Bull retrieved a cloth and wiped his belly and between his legs, dabbing carefully when he approached the burns. Dorian watched, swallowing the sinking feeling in his stomach until it became a hard pit. 

“Hey,” Bull snapped his fingers in front of Dorian’s face, which finally distracted him from Gethrael’s tiny form on the bed. “He’s okay. _You’re_ okay.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Dorian muttered. He lifted his hand to run his fingers through the elf’s messy hair - then lowered it again, thinking how Bull had said to give him space, and maybe he shouldn’t. 

Though Bull chose not to counter that remark, Dorian could still feel his gaze. For a long moment neither of them spoke, though the mage had the very clear impression that Bull was going to wait as long as it took for him to say something. He hated that. 

A huge, calloused hand moved to the back of his neck, making him turn his head to look at Iron Bull. He levelled the Qunari with a glare that should let him know exactly what he thought about that kind of treatment. 

“Try being honest about how you’re feeling right now,” Bull’s voice was firm, and it wasn’t that which irritated Dorian so much as the _understanding_ in his tone. 

“Slightly ill, if you must know.”

“You need to get out of your head,” it was a tone that left no room for argument. “You can enjoy this. He sure does.”

“Ah yes, you understand everything about me, I see,” Dorian said, dry as the desert. 

“Ha, not really,” Bull chuckled. “It’s just obvious when you’re doing that self loathing shit you do.”

“Now, Iron Bull,” Dorian said, with exaggerated haughtiness, “how could you accuse a man so wonderful and handsome as I am of being self loathing?” There was a lump in his throat. He opened his mouth to fling some other barb, but Bull pulled him inexorably closer and kissed him hard. By the time he was released, he’d forgotten whatever his self depreciating comment was. 

“Let yourself enjoy making him feel good,” Bull said, and the warmth of his voice made Dorian’s stomach tight. “Go ahead and get off on it. I sure do.” He chuckled. 

“It’s not right,” Dorian muttered, rubbing his temple with two fingers. The thrill he’d felt causing pain, the heady rush of being in control. He was no better than the worst of his countrymen; mad with power and torturing their slaves. 

“Talk,” Bull said firmly, taking Dorian’s wrist to pull his hand away from his face, like he thought he was hiding behind it. The mage jerked it out of his grasp. 

“Kaffas...” he cursed under his breath, “Bull, think about it! A Tevinter Magister and his elven slave? It’s truly disgusting.” Words were boiling at the back of his throat and he wasn’t sure he could stop them. “He’s so far from _that_ to me, I can’t stand the thought-” the moment his voice cracked he shut his mouth like a steel trap. 

Iron Bull still watched him intently, giving him that appraising one-eyed gaze. It made Dorian unreasonably angry, and the urge to get up and pace was overwhelming. Bull seemed to sense it even before he moved to get up, as suddenly the Qunari’s huge hands were holding him by the biceps; and wouldn’t allow him to move away without a genuinely enormous scene. 

“Hey. Let’s get this through your head, yeah? This power exchange shit isn’t about you treating him like a slave. It’s about worshipping him. Bringing him relief.”

“ _How?_ ” Dorian said plaintively. He couldn’t really deny that no matter how stubborn he was, couldn’t deny Gethrael’s pure delight. That did not mean he understood. 

Bull paused for a long moment; then released his arms. “... if you’re willing, I can show you.”

Dorian looked over at Gethrael again, suddenly feeling a knot in his stomach. “What we - what you did to him? Absolutely not.”

He chuckled. “You’re different people. You won’t be as easy as he is, but I can get you there. Everyone needs some release, Dorian.”

“I don’t think so,” the idea of mewling and crying like Geth did was enough to feel the sting of humiliation already. 

“Hey,” The Qunari said again. “You trust me?”

Dorian stared him down, not eager to respond. He narrowed his eyes and fidgeted a little in place, still fighting the urge to walk around the room. “Yes, I do,” he said finally; his voice low and quiet. 

Iron Bull grinned at him. “I can work with that. We talk next time you’re stressed, yeah? Soon as you get a taste of how it makes him feel... you won’t get this guilt any more. Promise.”

“Excuse me if that seems a little unlikely,” Dorian’s gaze caught on the small red mark on Gethrael’s cheek that his ring had left, and his stomach twisted. He really had hit the inquisitor, hadn’t he? 

Bull snapped his fingers again. “Over here.” He was giving Dorian one of those looks he liked to give Gethrael; something soft and almost protective. It did not improve Dorian’s mood at all. “Look - I won’t ever do something you don’t want. You got that?” The mage gave him a stiff nod, and seemingly Bull could tell he didn’t like the tone because he was back to jovial teasing in half a moment. “And you know you like it rough. Ha!”

“Alright, alright. Yes. I do,” Dorian said with a small, slightly abashed smile. 

Gethrael pushed himself up on his elbows with what looked like great effort, and Dorian was very suddenly torn between fussing over him and being thoroughly embarrassed. Why had he assumed the elf was sleeping? How much of that had he heard?

“Kadan,” Bull’s tone was so warm and tender that surely some wouldn’t believe it of him. He let his hand rest on the elf’s exposed hip. Gethrael gave him a tired smile, then reached out a hand to Dorian; who took it almost without thinking and pulled him up. 

The inquisitor rested against his shoulder, all affection. The softness of his tousled hair, the heat of his body, the way he somehow gave every bit of himself without even a whisper. Dorian’s chest felt tight again. He wrapped his arms around Gethrael’s waist, overwhelmed and wanting him close; and his heart leapt into his throat when he heard a sharp gasp. 

He’d burned the elf’s waist. 

A slender hand slid to rest in the crook of his neck. “Dorian,” Gethrael said, and that kind smile of his was audible. “You are amazing. That was... it was incredible.”

“Head up,” Bull muttered, voice still thick with affection. “Look at him. It’ll help.”

Dorian wanted to snap at Bull for that, for talking about him like he wasn’t even there, but as he opened his mouth; Gethrael lifted his head and pressed their lips messily together. Maker’s mercy, he was truly irresistible. His giddy little laugh as they broke apart again made Dorian’s heart skip a beat. The elf stayed as close as he could, their noses brushing together as he spoke. His dark eyes were sparkling. “I feel,” he interrupted himself with another giggle, “wow. Dorian, I mean this.”

“You really feel alright?” Dorian unconsciously tightened his grip. 

“Better than I have in _weeks_ ,” Gethrael sighed, letting his head drop to the mage’s shoulder. “Maker... it’ll be difficult not to get distracted, feeling these marks when I walk.”

“It’s too much, isn’t it,” Dorian rushed to say, “I should’ve been more careful,” he didn’t get any further before Geth’s finger pressed against his lips.

“I _love_ it,” he said, his bright smile as wide as Dorian had ever seen it. “That was more than I could’ve imagined.”

“See?” Bull said, a little smugly. He patted Gethrael on the ass firmly enough to move him with the touch. “You always amaze me, kadan.”

“I don’t want this to upset you,” The inquisitor pressed a kiss under Dorian’s jaw and snuggled up close to him. “... but please, please don’t worry on my account. I couldn’t be happier.”

“This is what people assume of us, amatus,” Dorian said, and he hated how helpless he sounded. “When they learn your lover is from Tevinter. I don’t feel... right... about it being the truth.”

“I’m absolutely fine with people assuming I have amazing sex,” Gethrael said in his usual bemused tone. Bull gave him a gentle nudge, and though he made himself sound more serious, he didn’t lose his smile. “Really, I don’t care at all what people think of us. That’s hardly their place.”

Of course he didn’t care - he never had. The inquisitor put great pride in their relationship, far more than any personal pride he’d ever exhibited. All the trysts Dorian had in the past ended then and there, with himself and his lover pretending they’d never met come the morning. That was the way it had to be. Gethrael was so different, and in a way it was utterly terrifying. It was with a deep, existential horror that Dorian had realized the inquisitor’s seriousness about a dance and a kiss in front of the court at the Winter Palace; for example. Yet there was something reassuring in it too, even for someone who’d suffered the Imperium’s views on his sexual preferences. 

Maybe _especially_ for someone like that. 

“I’d… like to think there’s a great deal of trust and respect between us,” Dorian said carefully. “Perhaps therein lies the difference.”

Iron Bull gave him a reassuring smile. “Now you’re getting it.”


End file.
